A Breaking Point
by willowaus
Summary: Everyone has their breaking point. Whether or not they can pick up the pieces impacts how they will continue on. Casefile. GSR. Chapter 9 up. WIP
1. Chapter 1

**A Breaking Point**

By Jess aka willowaus

Disclaimer: I do not own CSI and I am in no way making any money from writing this, alas.

A/N: Thanks to AussiRayne for the beta and to the girls of SSFAS for putting up with my endless questions and outlining havoc I ensued upon them. :)

**Part One**

"Nicky," Sara said, raising the flute of champagne to her lips. "You don't have to baby-sit me all night."

He turned to look at her and raised an eyebrow in question. "You've been watching that bridesmaid all night," she continued. "Go!"

His cheeks were red and he glared at her. "I have not been watching her all night," he replied.

She laughed at his petulant expression and rolled her eyes as his wandered towards the bridesmaid in the light blue gown. "Just go, Nicky!" she cried, pushing him gently with her hand.

He still hadn't moved and she sighed. "Well, I'm going to see Doc Robbins and his wife, so hopefully _she'll_ make a move," Sara said and stood, walking away before he could protest.

Sara turned to look over his shoulder, chuckling at his flustered look as the young woman walked towards him. She maneuvered herself through the crowded reception hall, making sure she was smiling as she passed the various guests. David nodded towards her as he and his new bride moved towards the floor to dance and she grinned at him, glad that he had been able to find someone to love.

Looking back towards Doc Robbins table she faltered, scanning the room for where the doctor and his wife had gone. She spotted them on the dance floor and sighed. She scouted the room and finally found Archie involved in a deep conversation with one of the bride's friends. _'And now everyone I know here is occupied_,' she thought and inwardly groaned, turning around to locate a new place to sit and observe the festivities.

The sound of her name being yelled caused her to cringe and she turned, watching as a drunken groomsman made his way towards her. She forced the smile to remain on her face, inwardly rolling her eyes. "May I have this dance?" the young man asked.

She opened her mouth to protest as he unceremoniously grabbed her hand and started leading her towards the floor. She fought back the urge to drop kick him to the floor, not wanting to cause a scene, and allowed herself to be lead to the dance floor. Her smile was gone, a stony expression set on it, as the man's hand moved to touch her hip. '_If it moves, proper etiquette be damned,'_ she thought, gritting her teeth as they moved to the Van Morrison's _Have I told you lately_.

"Excuse me," came a gruff voice that she wasn't expecting to hear.

Her partner stopped dancing and looked behind her, Sara following suit, surprised to see Grissom standing behind her in a tuxedo. "May I?" he asked the groomsman.

"I dunno," the man replied. "Sara and I were having a good time, weren't we?"

She pulled back as he leaned towards her, the alcohol on his breath filling her nose. "As that may be," Grissom said, startling Sara with the touch of anger in his voice. "I don't think your girlfriend appreciates it."

He motioned to the young woman standing on the side of the dance floor, glaring daggers at them before turning and walking angrily away. The groomsman let go of Sara and started after the young woman. Sara turned towards Grissom. "Thanks," she said. "I was trying to find a nice way to get away from him."

She moved to walk off of the dance floor, his hand touching her arm stopping her. She looked back at him, raising an eyebrow as his hand moved to her hip, his other taking her hand gently in his and leading them in a slow dance to the music playing.

"When did you get here?" Sara asked, trying to shake the nervousness that she was feeling. "You missed the wedding and the speeches."

"I got held up," he replied. "With Ecklie away at the conference in D.C. I've been overrun with supervisory duties."

"You love it," she said with a smirk.

It faltered as she looked at his face, trying to decipher the look he gave her and failing miserably. "How was the ceremony?" Grissom asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence between them.

"I don't know if I'm the one you want to ask for that opinion," she remarked. "I'm not a big fan of these things."

"Weddings?" he asked, his hand sliding lower down her hip.

"Uh, yeah," she replied, her mouth dry. She forced back a sigh. _'He probably doesn't even realize he did it.'_

A slight tug on her dress caused her to look down and smile at the five year old flower girl standing beside them. "Hi Leila," Sara said, acknowledging the little girl.

"Ms. Sara," she pouted. "You were gonna help me make a crane."

"Yes I was," Sara replied and turned to her supervisor. "Uh, this is Leila, David's new niece. Leila this is Mr. Grissom, he works with your uncle and me."

"Hi," Leila said, looking up at him, her face scrunching in thought. "You have hair on your face."

Grissom raised an eyebrow at the remark. "It's called a beard," Sara told her.

"Why do you have a…beard?" the five-year-old asked.

He looked at the little girl, not quite sure what to say. "What does it feel like?" she asked.

"Scratchy?" Sara replied and suppressed a laugh at the girl's disgusted look.

"Can we make a crane?" Leila asked, looking away from Grissom and back to Sara.

"Sure," the CSI replied and allowed the little girl to grab her hand, tugging her through the crowd.

Sara was surprised to see Grissom was following close behind them. They arrived at one of the tables and Leila handed Sara a napkin. Grissom watched as she took the napkin and folded it, creating a crane with the paper. "Is he your boyfriend?" Leila asked, looking inquisitively at Grissom from her chair.

"No," Sara said, handing the crane to the little girl, refusing to look at the man behind her. "He's my boss."

Leila nodded and smiled at the crane in her hands. "Thanks, Ms. Sara," she said before bounding away into the crowd of guests.

"Your boss?" Grissom asked, looking down at her.

She turned to look at him, again unable to read the expression on his face. "Well, you are," she replied.

A flicker of an emotion swept across his face before it became unreadable again. "I believe I need to greet the happy couple," he told her and walked away.

Sara watched him go; troubled by the chill he left behind.

xxx

_'A ghost.'_ Grissom placed the flute of champagne to his lips and smiled wryly at the thought. He leaned against the wall, observing the various wedding guests, setting himself apart from them but blending in with the surroundings at the same time. It was a gift perfected in high school and one he used throughout his life, allowing him to observe without being observed himself.

Scanning the room, he sought out those he knew. David and his new wife were happily chatting with others he did not recognize. Archie and a young woman with bright pink hair were happily dancing on the floor, laughing and talking as they moved, while Nick sat nervously talking with a brunette that he assumed was part of the wedding party based on her dress. And Sara…he sighed as he focused on her.

She hadn't moved from the table he had left her at. Her shoulders were slightly drooped as she played with a napkin on the table, alternating between tearing edges of it and tracing the creases. He forced himself to look away, his mouth tightening as he remembered her comment to the little girl.

_'He's my boss.'_

Was that really all she saw him as now? Was he simply her boss and nothing more? He looked at the champagne in his hand and frowned, walking from his spot and depositing it at the bar, before finding another place he could stand back and hide in. For a few moments he was able to avoid looking in her direction, but eventually he gave in and allowed himself to focus his attention back on her.

His throat constricted as he watched a man conversing with her before extending a hand to her. She looked at it for a few seconds before shrugging and taking it with one of her own. He watched her stand and walk with the stranger towards the dance floor, mesmerized by the way her navy blue dress swayed at her ankles as she walked further away from him.

They were dancing now and he couldn't help but think how perfect she looked in the younger man's arms, dancing to the slow beat that wafted through the air. A silent curse left his mouth as he saw her watching him, her face full of longing before looking away from him.

There was a slight tugging on his pants and he looked down, finding the little girl from earlier looking up at him. He gazed curiously at her and she reciprocated a similar look. "No one dances with me," she finally said, turning so that her dress twirled around her.

He continued to look at her, unsure what she wanted. She sighed and the look she gave him reminded him of one he had seen on Sara many times before. Her small hand grabbed his and started pulling him towards the dance floor. His mouth opened to protest but he closed it, sighing as he allowed himself to be dragged.

The little girl placed her feet on top of his and he gave her another look. "It's how you're supposed to dance," she told him, rolling her eyes.

Grissom decided it was best to simply nod and looked up, ignoring the laughter from Doctor Robbins and his wife. He spotted Sara who was watching him as she danced a small smile on her face and an emotion he couldn't name in her eyes. She quickly looked away when she saw that he was watching her, focusing her attention back on the man she was dancing with.

Grissom looked back at the little girl unsure if he was supposed to talk to her and what one would say. His experience with Lindsey Willows had not prepared him for interactions with children. "I can read," she told him simply.

"That is…good," he replied.

"Robbie tried to put a spider on me," she said.

"Robbie?" he asked.

"The little boy over there," she said, pointing towards a group of children that were at a table playing games.

"Why are you not with the other children?" he asked.

"Because Robbie tried to put a spider on me!" she said exasperatedly.

The song ended and she released her grip on his hands and leapt off his feet. Grissom shook his head and watched her walk towards Sara, tugging on her dress as she had done earlier. He walked away from the dance floor and found another spot he would be comfortable standing in. His eyes sought out Sara again.

He smiled as he watched her spin the little brown haired girl on the dance floor, large smiles on their faces. They looked like mother and daughter, dancing happily without a care in the world. A deep sorrow passed trough him and he forced himself to look away, moving towards Archie and his date in order to focus himself on something besides Sara Sidle.

xxx

_'It's amazing how the one person you try to avoid is the person you always end up bumping into,'_ Sara mentally groaned, forcing a smile on her face as she bumped into the night shift supervisor. "Sorry," she murmured and started to move past him, intent on finding Nick.

"He's not there."

She turned at the sound of Grissom's voice, giving him a questioning look. "Nick and the bridesmaid went outside to get some…uh, air," he continued.

"Oh. Thanks for telling me," she replied, turning to find another place to sit and mull over her thoughts.

"Sara," he called softly.

She cursed herself as she turned; hating that she always came when he called. He looked at her, his mouth opening slightly before closing, a sad smile settling on his lips. Forcing another smile on her face, she shrugged before turning away from him and walked away, moving as fast as she could from him without running.

_'I need to stop letting him have this power over me,'_ she told herself as she sat down in an empty seat, watching the people on the dance floor. An older couple moved across the floor, smiles spread wide on their faces as they swayed from side to side. Shaking her head she looked away, pushing her self-loathing thoughts away and forcing the melancholy that threatened to envelop her to disperse. _'This is supposed to be a happy engagement.' _She stood, intent on allowing herself to have some form of fun, and decided to find the gentlemen she had been dancing with before.

A faint beeping sound reached her ears and she looked at the small handbag she was carrying. She quickly removed her beeper and sighed as she read the message. _'419—call in.'_ Putting the beeper back in the bag, she removed her cell phone, cringing that the lab was number 2 on her speed dial, her supervisor and colleagues the other numbers she was able to reach at the touch of a button. _'Has my life become just about work?'_

"We've been paged," Grissom said and she looked away from her phone to see her supervisor standing in front of her.

"419," she replied and looked down at her dress. It was not conducive to examining a scene.

"Change of clothes?" he asked, thinking the same thing.

"I came with Nick," she told him.

"I have a jumpsuit you can wear in the Denali," he informed her and started towards the door.

Sara sighed and followed him through the crowd, mouthing to Nick 419 before she left the banquet room. Following Grissom out of the hotel she forced herself to exude her professional demeanor.

xxx

The CSIs exited the Denali and started towards the scene. Brass and two officers stood guarding a blocked off crime scene located on the side of Boulder Highway. Sara squirmed in the blue jumpsuit, not used to the course fabric touching the amount of bare skin that it was today.

"This is a gruesome one," Brass informed them, walking over to them. "Coroner pronounced and is waiting for your okay to get the body."

Moving under the crime scene tape, Sara gasped in horror at the sight before them. "Oh god," she whispered.

Lying on the cold desert floor was the lifeless body of a five-year-old girl, her eyes open, a look of horror on her face, a cloth tied around her mouth. Her throat was cut and there were multiple burns and smaller cuts along the rest of her naked body.

Sara shook her head, wondering if any of the evidence they would discover would help them understand why. There was never a justification for killing a child and nothing could prepare you for the horror of seeing one taken in the manner displayed before them. Stepping towards the body, Sara shook her head. "Life sucks," she said, putting her kit down and opening it up to remove gloves.

"So long as little children are allowed to suffer, there is no true love in this world," Grissom whispered, his gaze focused on her.

"There is no such thing as true love," Sara replied pointedly, ignoring the icy chill that had taken up residence between Grissom and her, focusing her attention on the child in front of them. _'We'll find out what happened to you. I promise.'_

**TBC**


	2. Chapter 2

**A Breaking Point**

By Jess aka willowaus

Disclaimer: I do not own CSI and I am in no way making any money from writing this, alas.

A/N: Thanks to AussiRayne for the beta and to all those who deal with my insane questions, you know who you are. :) And a big thank you to everyone who read and reviewed. I'm glad I listened to the nagging voice in my ear telling me to post this.

**Part Two**

"There's no blood," Sara said, scanning the ground with her flashlight over the area the child's body had been laying. "This isn't our primary crime scene."

"No," Grissom replied, looking down at the hard desert ground. "She was dumped here."

He scanned the ground with his own light, attempting to find anything that would help them. "Shoe prints," he remarked, settling the light on the faint impression.

Sara squatted down beside him, focused the camera that had been hanging at her side on the print, and took a series of pictures. She removed the materials needed to make a cast of the footprints and began mixing the dental stone and then poured the mixture onto the indentations made by someone's shoe. They would need to wait at least thirty minutes for the cast to harden and it to be safe for removal. _'All we have is a few shoe prints.'_

"We have nothing," she said, her voice resigned.

Grissom said nothing, his eyes still focused on the ground where the girl's body had been moments before. She strained her eyes to try and make out his expression, but the light from their flashlights and the police vehicles only helped enhance the shadows dancing across his face.

She looked back at the casting, shining her light along the ground in an attempt to find anything they might have missed. Her eyes moved back to the spot the little girl had been in and she frowned, millions of thoughts running through her mind. She pushed them aside, needing something to occupy her.

"I'm going to get all of their shoe prints," she told him as she stood.

There was no movement from him and she sighed, turning away and walking towards Brass and the other officers. _'I'll need to get the coroner, EMTs, and our prints as well, to help rule out who's shoes made those indentations,'_ she thought and smiled at the officers, removing some adhesive paper from her kit.

Looking back at Grissom one more time, her lips twisted in silent concern as she watched him scour the desert floor for anything else they might find. Something was going on in his head and a nagging feeling in the back of her mind was pressuring her to find out what it was. She shook her head, forcing herself to focus on collecting evidence, she would need to deal with him later.

xxx

A frown settled on Grissom's face as he stared at the child on the steel slab. His eyes were playing tricks on him. Her face kept changing in front of him, blending into that of the little girl from the wedding, the one who had danced with himself and Sara. Slowly, it morphed again, becoming the face of a child he did not know, but longed to see. A little girl with curly brown hair and a gap tooth smile he would know anywhere staring back at him with his own blue eyes.

"She's been dead approximately four hours, Gil," Doctor Robbins said, walking towards the night shift supervisor and interrupting his friend's thoughts.

"Cause of death?" Grissom asked, emotion void from his face as looked back at the small child laid on the hard steel table.

"Exsanguination," Robbins replied and moved his hand to her throat. "The cut began at the right carotid, transecting the jugular, and ended just before the left carotid. It was deep and precise, not a single hesitation mark."

The CSI nodded and the coroner continued, motioning to the various smaller cuts scattered along the child's arms, "These cuts, though not fatal, would have been painful to endure."

His hand moved, pointing to different cuts along the right arm. "Some of the cuts had begun to scab over, though I would say none are more than a day old," Robbins said. "These burns were made by something small and circular, probably a cigarette. There are eighteen burn marks and twenty-one cuts, not counting the one to her throat."

Robbins paused and took a deep breath before continuing, "She was raped. We sent the kit to Mia. I also sent her fingerprints to the lab, maybe you'll be able to identify her by them."

He watched his friend nod and his lips twisted in concern. "She looks a lot like Leila," Robbins commented looking back at the little girl, before pulling the sheet to completely cover her body.

Grissom nodded. "She does," he said, finally lifting his eyes from her body. "Let me know if you find anything else."

Robbins sighed as he watched the CSI leave the autopsy room, before moving to place her body into one of the freezer doors.

xxx

Sara shook her head and placed down the last shoe print she had collected. None of them matched the one found at the crime scene. _'I don't know if I should be elated or disappointed,'_ she mused, looking at the casting on the table.

Her mind wandered back to the little girl and the burn marks on her arms. She looked down at her legs and sighed, images of the scars of cigarette burns from long ago filling her head. A ghostly child's cry of pain enveloped her and she shut her eyes. She knew how painful they were, searing away flesh and leaving behind a reminder of the pain you had endured. Opening her eyes, she frowned. '_Some wounds never heal,'_ she thought.

Looking up, she watched Grissom walk down the hallway, heading in the direction of his office. Something was off with him. She stood and began the trek towards his office. Standing in the threshold, she watched as he absentmindedly moved about it, dumping a handful of crickets into his tarantula's terrarium before moving towards his desk.

"Uh, Grissom," she said, watching as he turned to look at her, startled at her presence. She pointed to the terrarium. "You forgot to put the lid back on."

She frowned and watched him put the lid on, _'He never forgets to do that.'_

"Was there something you needed?" he asked, his eyes never looking at her as he made his way back to the desk.

"The shoe prints at the crime scene didn't match any of our people," she told him, leaning against the doorframe.

"Do we know what type of shoe it is?" he asked, reaching for a stack of papers.

"No," she replied. "I was just about to--"

"Get on that," he interrupted, removing the paper from the top.

Sara opened her mouth to reply, but thought better of it, an exasperated sigh leaving her mouth as she exited the room. She shook her head as she walked down the hallway, not noticing the way his eyes watched her as she moved away, nor seeing the haunted look that was present in them.

xxx

The words were beginning to blur forcing him to look away from the paper work in front of him. Looking at the clock, he silently cursed. He had been looking at the same paper for an hour. A knock on the door frame caused him to look up and he watched as Brass walked into the room. "Sorry to be the bearer of bad news," the detective said, sitting in one of the chairs.

Grissom raised an eyebrow as his friend picked up a ladybug paperweight before placing it down, an amused expression on his face. "No luck with the girl's fingerprints," Brass said. "And no one matching the girl's description has been reported missing."

"Do you have anything helpful to tell me?" Grissom asked, turning his attention back to the papers in front of him, trying to force back the headache that was forming.

"Are you being this cheerful to everyone?" the detective asked.

Grissom looked up at his friend and glared before looking back down. "No wonder all the lab techs have their heads down low and Sara is gloomily poring over a large stack of shoeprint books," Brass continued.

The CSI didn't answer, instead picking up his pen and focusing his attention on the report in front of him. "Want to talk about it?" Brass asked.

A snort was his only reply and Brass shook his head, a sad smile on his face. "Of course not," he said.

He waited a few seconds before rising and leaving his friend to the diversion the paperwork allowed.

xxx

She closed another book, blinking her eyes to try and get them to act normal. Casting a look at the pile of books she had already looked through she groaned, not wanting to think about the other seven she still had to go. Her only solace was that eventually she would find the shoe. _'That's if it's not brand new and hasn't been placed in a book yet,'_ she thought and silently berated herself.

Standing, she stretched her limbs and looked towards the break room, wondering if the coffee was fresh, before deciding that she really didn't care and walking towards the room. Entering the room, she was surprised to see Catherine sitting at one of the tables, quietly drinking a cup of coffee. "Didn't swing shift end three hours ago?" she asked, removing a mug from one of the cupboards.

"Triple homicide at the Tangiers," Catherine said, sounding as tired as she looked. "A whole family murdered."

Sara poured herself a cup and sat down. "I wanted to drink some coffee to help me stay awake before I drive home and hug Lindsey," the swing shift supervisor continued.

"Warrick working it with you?" Sara asked.

"Yeah," Catherine replied. "I sent him home a half hour ago. We need to look at it with fresh eyes tomorrow."

Sara nodded and sniffed the coffee. "Greg's secret stash?" she asked, looking curiously at the mixture.

"I snuck some from his locker," Catherine said, smiling as she drank some more. She looked up, raising an eyebrow at Sara. "Why are you wearing a jumpsuit?"

"I was at David's wedding reception and got called in," Sara replied. "I rode with Nick so I used one of the suits in Grissom's car."

"And you didn't change when you came in?" Catherine teased.

"My change of clothes is in the wash," the younger CSI replied. "I'm not supposed to be on tonight. I was planning on bringing it in with me tomorrow."

Catherine nodded and silence fell between the two women, each of them thinking of their case. Sara looked down at the mug, watching the tendrils of steam rise from it, a haunted look coming over her as memories of her childhood threatened to overtake her. She shook her head and took a drink, pushing them away, grasping onto her professional self and trying not to fall.

"Do you know what's bothering Grissom?" Catherine asked, causing Sara to look up, and nodded in the general direction of Grissom's office.

"Little girl was tortured, raped, murdered and dumped on the side of the road," Sara replied, images of the little girl flashing in her mind, her resolve melting.

Catherine opened her mouth to say something, but seemed to think better of it, instead nodding and then rising from her seat. "Have a good night," she said.

"Try and sleep," Sara replied, knowing that the supervisor's sleep would be anything but peaceful as she watched her leave. Her eyes roamed towards the direction of Grissom's office and she fought back the urge to see him, opting to take another sip. _'There are some things you need to handle on your own,' _she told herself harshly and rose, bringing her coffee with her as she headed back to look through the shoeprint books.

xxx

Looking up at the clock, Sara sighed. Shift was over, had been for almost an hour, and they had nothing to help them identify the little girl or her killer. Semen had been found, but it wasn't a match to anyone in the database. The shoeprint wasn't in any of the books. _'I'll have to call for prints of some of the newer brands and styles,'_ she thought, rubbing her eyes.

Collecting her purse and the dress she had worn to the wedding from her locker, she bit her lip, closing the metal door. She walked quietly through the hallway, ignoring the looks from dayshift personnel about the jumpsuit she was still wearing. She stopped outside of Grissom's office, watching him for a few seconds. He was still attempting to do paperwork, but she wondered if it was the same page he had been on when he had first sat down.

His forehead was scrunched in thought and he looked up at her, his face void of emotion, his eyes fixing onto hers. "No luck with the shoeprint," she told him and frowned as he nodded and looked back at the papers on his desk.

"Night, Gris," she said, leaving the man to his own demons as she exited with her own.

**TBC**


	3. Chapter 3

**A Breaking Point**

By Jess aka willowaus

Disclaimer: I do not own CSI and I am in no way making any money from writing this, alas.

A/N: Hugs to AussiRayne for the beta and for putting up with my ranting and raving. And big thanks to all of you for reading and reviewing.

**Part Three**

Fear mingled with worry filled every inch of her body as she struggled to make herself invisible in the closet. Light from the hallway shone through the bottom of the doorway, casting shadows of her parents as they moved through the house. Closing her eyes, she buried her head in her lap as her hands covered her ears. If she concentrated hard enough maybe she could open her own gateway to the land of Narnia. Her heart beat faster as the sound of footsteps grew nearer before the door was viciously yanked open.

Sara bolted upright in bed, her tank top clinging to her sweat dripped body. She closed her eyes, leaning back against the headboard as she struggled to even out her erratic breathing. Her hand fumbled for the glass of water on her bedside table and she slowly drank, allowing the cool liquid to sooth her as she opened her eyes. Rays of sunlight escaped the barrier of her maroon drapes, casting shadows along her covers, and she sighed, pushing the covers off of her and walking towards her bathroom.

Sleep would be impossible now, her mind unable to shut down the countless memories that invaded it. She turned on the shower head, stripped and stepped inside the hot water spray, letting the heat sear away the haunting pain that never seemed to leave her. She leaned her forehead against the cool tile, trying to squelch the need for someone to cling to, for someone to talk to. _'You've tried letting people in,'_ she warned herself. '_And all they do is shut you out.'_

An exasperated noise left her mouth as she remembered the day she had revealed pieces of her past to Grissom, and the hope that had filled her, telling her now that she had told someone things would be better. _'Maybe you should have opened up to someone other than him,'_ she berated herself, pushing away form the tile and reaching for her shampoo bottle.

The bottle dropped from her hands, hitting the porcelain, her eyes widening in horror as an awful thought ran through her head. _'I have become my mother; neither of us could walk away from a relationship we knew had no hope.'_ She sat in the tub, letting the water cascade over her body, hugging her knees to her chest, her eyes closing as she tried to force the thought to leave her mind.

xxx

He should be at home, attempting to force sleep upon his frustrated mind. Instead, Gil Grissom sat at his desk, drinking his sixth cup of coffee, looking at the crime scene photographs again, trying to find anything that could help them identify the child in the morgue or her killer. The last of the hot liquid touched his tongue and he scowled at the empty Styrofoam cup before absentmindedly placing it beside the other ones.

The photograph fluttered to his desk as his hand rubbed at his eyes, ridding them of the exhaustion that was creeping upon him. The killer had only left behind shoe prints. There were no fibers, no fingerprints. '_DNA,'_ he thought and hastily stood up, sending the cups falling to the floor as he exited his office and headed towards the DNA lab.

He ignored the way personnel leaped out of his way, giving him as much space as they could before shaking their heads as they continued their own journeys. Grissom entered the lab and walked over to the dayshift technician, who looked up from the lab work he was completing, a nervous expression on his face. "What were the results on my Jane Doe case?" the night shift supervisor asked.

The technician shook his head. "I don't know, Dr. Grissom," he said. "Mia would have those results and she's been gone for a few hours."

"Well, Mr.--" Grissom said and looked at the lab technician's lab coat, "Akers, find the results for me."

Akers nodded and quickly rose, stumbling towards the stack of papers that might hold an answer. "Uh," he said, flipping through the papers. "Jane Doe?"

"A little girl, about five years old," Grissom replied, his irritation rising with each second. "I doubt we had more than one raped, tortured, and murdered little girl last night."

The technician nodded and pulled out a piece of paper from the stack. "Here are the results," he said, handing it to the supervisor. "It didn't match anyone in CODIS."

Grissom nodded and took the results, leaving a relieved lab technician in his wake. "You never left, did you?"

He looked up from the papers in his hand, finding Sara standing a few feet away from him. "Why are you here?" he asked instead of answering her question, trying to force away the image of the little girl he could see dancing at her side, the one who had his eyes and her smile.

She flinched at the harshness in his tone. "Shoe companies are not open when we're on," she answered, biting back the retort that wanted to fly from her mouth. "Any luck with DNA?"

"I'd have told you if there was," he replied and started towards his office, leaving her alone in the hallway, a little girl's laughter haunting his every step.

xxx

Sara rolled her head to try and loosen her tense neck muscles before looking back at the new shoe prints she had laid out in front of her. She had been successful in tracking down a number of new shoes that might have similar tread patterns to the ones left at the crime scene. Now that the various companies had faxed them to the lab, all she had to do was work at identifying the one that matched and excluding the others. She added another to the reject pile and picked another one, comparing it to the casting she had made.

The sound of footsteps filled her ears as she looked at the various indentations and she shook her head, trying to push the sound away. It was of no use, the steps got louder, echoing in her mind, followed by the gut-wrenching squeak of a door being pulled open. She closed her eyes, her childhood screams reverberating around her, followed by the phantom sting of a cigarette searing her flesh. Gasping for air, she opened her eyes, clinging to the edge of the table in the layout room, forcing herself to calm down, pushing the memories away.

She glanced around her, thankful that no one had witnessed her reaction. Grissom walked by the room and she watched his figure disappear into the breakroom before exiting from it with a Styrofoam cup. She wondered how many cups of coffee he had gone through already. He looked towards her and she scowled as she looked away, hating that he had caught her watching him.

"Find a match?" he asked from the doorway.

She bit her lip to stop herself from answering him the way he had her, '_I'd have told you if there was.'_ "Not yet," she said, her eyes focused on the papers in front of her.

She examined the shoeprint, hearing his breathing, willing him to leave her in peace. "Sara…" he said and she frowned, turning to look at him.

His blue eyes held hers for a brief second before breaking their gaze and exiting without another word. She shook her head as she watched him go, hating her traitorous feelings. Why was it that when she saw him, all she could think about was curling up in the safety of his embrace? She bit her lip, pleased when she tasted the blood in her mouth, and looked back down at the prints.

A line from a movie meandered around her brain, repeating over and over again. "I want to feel passion, I want to feel pain. I want to weep at the sound of your name. Come make me laugh, come make me cry…just make me feel alive," she whispered, releasing its hold on her.

Her mouth twisted in a sad smile. _'What I'd give to feel alive.'_

xxx

Catherine looked down at the victim's purse and sighed, opening the black object. She pulled out the various items, cataloguing each piece and placed them on the table. Her hand retrieved the dead woman's wallet and she opened it, looking at the pictures that were present. She looked up as her name was said in greeting and watched Sara pass the room.

"What are you doing here?" Catherine called, stopping the other woman and causing her to walk into the room.

"I had to call shoe manufacturer's to obtain shoeprints we don't have on file," Sara shrugged and looked at the purse contents. "From your triple murder?"

The swing shift supervisor nodded and looked down at the wallet pictures. "Whole family, gone," she said, shaking her head.

"Robbery?" Sara asked, looking at the pictures over the other woman's shoulder.

"It doesn't appear that anything was taken," Catherine said and flipped through the photographs. "Mother, father, a seven year old boy. The maid went in to clean and found them scattered throughout the room, gun shots to various parts of the bodies."

She stopped at the next one and looked questioningly at it, "I wonder who this is?"

"Oh my god," Sara said, eyes wide as she looked down at the picture of a little girl smiling happily.

Catherine looked up as the younger CSI ran from the room. "Sara," she called, wondering what was going on. She shook her head and went back to cataloguing the rest of the items in the purse.

xxx

Grissom looked up, annoyance evident on his face, as Sara barged into his office. "I know who the little girl is," she said, breathing heavily.

"Who?" he asked.

"I don't know her name," she answered.

"Then how can you know who she is?" he snapped, looking back at the papers before him.

Something inside her cracked and she stared at him for a few seconds, not quite believing his dismissive attitude. She wondered if he was like this with everyone, or did he save his flippant behavior for her. Her eyes watched him continue to stare at the paperwork and she could feel the crack inside her splitting open more and more with each passing second. "Dammit, Grissom!" she growled and he looked up. "Just…just follow me."

She exited the room and he sighed as he followed her through the hallway and into the room Catherine was working. The swingshift supervisor looked up, fixing a startled gaze on the two of them. "Can I see the wallet for a second?" Sara asked, quickly slipping on gloves.

Catherine handed her the wallet and watched as the younger CSI flipped through the pictures before shoving the wallet at Grissom. "It's her," he said.

Sara said nothing, merely nodded and slipped out of the room, letting her feet guide her as far away from Gil Grissom as they could.

**TBC**


	4. Chapter 4

**A Breaking Point**

By Jess aka willowaus

Disclaimer: I do not own CSI and I am in no way making any money from writing this, alas.

A/N: Hugs to AussiRayne for the beta and helping me think things out. And hugs to all of you for reading and reviewing.

**Part Four**

It was as though she was grappling to stay above water, moving her arms and legs in a steady motion to keep from going under, holding back the fatigue that was threatening to pull her down. She forced a smile as the waitress brought over the fruit salad and refilled her cup of coffee before asking, "I haven't seen you here in ages. Where's the rest of your usual entourage?"

Sara shrugged. "Working," she replied. "Thank you."

The woman walked away and the CSI turned her attention to look out the window. She leaned back into the vinyl red cushion, sipping her coffee as the people of Las Vegas went on with their lives. Her observational skills never left her, not even when she wasn't working, and as she watched men and women walk by the window she couldn't help but notice little things. It was what she was paid to do, what had helped her survive her childhood. Bottles in the trashcan had meant she would need to stay out of her parents' way as did the sound of incessant tapping along the arm of her father's favorite chair. The lack of her brother's motorcycle in the driveway meant she was on her own and that she should seek refuge in one of the trees in their backyard. The sound of glass breaking told her to hide in her closet.

Shaking her head, she looked away from the window and took a bite of the salad. Her cell phone rang and she removed it from her purse, rolling her eyes at Grissom's name on the small screen. She silenced the call and waited for it to end before placing it on vibrate. Her pager went off next and she sighed, removing it from her purse and frowning at the text message. '_Call Gris.__ No thank you,'_ she thought and took another bite of the salad. _'I'm not on yet, he can have someone else come in to rant and rave at.'_

Carelessly she tossed the cell phone and pager back in her purse and leaned back against the booth, her gaze once again focused on the people walking by. A family walked by and her eyes traveled to the little brown haired girl holding her parents' hands and swinging between the two as they walked. Sara looked away, frowning at the coffee mug in her hands. A fleeting feeling of her hands wrapped in her parents washed over her, her own childhood laughter filling her ears, before it turned to her screams.

She shook her head again, silently cursing the memories she couldn't escape. _'Why won't they leave me alone?'_ she wondered, sipping the coffee. She felt her purse vibrate against her leg and sighed, pulling her cell phone out and looking at Grissom's name on the display again. Her eyes narrowed at the sight and she shoved the object back in her purse, scowling as she bit into a piece of orange.

_'I didn't deserve any of that,'_ she growled to herself, spearing another bit of orange. He had been dismissive to her, treated her like she was a first year rookie, not taking her seriously. She pushed the plate aside and bit her lip in frustration. Grasping the coffee mug, she sighed. She knew the case was getting to him, could see it in the way he moved, the way he sat, by the agitated rise of his eyebrow when he looked at paperwork. _'It doesn't give him the right to walk all over me though,_' she reminded herself.

It had hurt. She didn't know what was worse, that he could still hurt her or that she let him. Her purse vibrated again and she gripped the mug tighter, resisting the urge to fling her purse across the diner. Standing up, she walked towards the cash register, quickly paid her bill, and exited the establishment. Pushing her sunglasses to cover her eyes, she donned a stony expression. It was time to head back to the lab, work on more shoe prints, and deal with Gil Grissom. _'Though he may have gone home,'_ she thought hopefully, knowing that the probability of that was minimal.

The ride back was short, surprising Sara. _'Why is it whenever I want there to be a lot of traffic, there's none?'_ she thought grimly as she unbuckled herself and exited her vehicle. _'He's around here somewhere.'_ It was the only way to account for the tense expressions in the lab as she walked in. Footsteps echoed in her ears and she shook her head, forcing the memories away.

Her plan to head straight for the shoe prints and start working was foiled when he stepped out of the layout room and locked his gaze with hers. She didn't think she had ever seen him look at her with such fury before. "My office, now," he said, his voice low, the ferocity of it evident.

She rolled her eyes and followed him towards it, ignoring the anxious looks sent their way as they passed. The door slammed shut behind her and she sank into one of the seats in front of his desk, dumping her purse in the other one, before looking back at him, letting the annoyance in her eyes shine through. "What the hell was that, Sara?" he demanded.

She didn't answer, jutting her chin out in defiance. His eyes narrowed, taking in her rebellious posture and he shook his head. "You leave and don't answer your phone--" he began.

"I didn't have to answer," she replied coldly. "Not my shift and I wasn't on call."

She watched him falter at her tone, looking at her curiously, before anger clouded his face again. "Do you have any idea what could have happened if Ecklie was here, Sara?" he asked. "You could have been suspended, or worse."

"You mean I could have been fired," she said, rolling her eyes. "Maybe that would be for the best."

He opened his mouth to speak again, interrupted by a knock on the door. Throwing her an irate look, he turned and opened it.

A terrified receptionist stood outside and handed him some forms, asking for his signature. Sara sighed as she watched him, running her fingers along the arm of the chair. Her eyes roamed to his desk. _'Do I really not care?'_ she wondered. The door shut and she flinched at the squeaking it made, gripping the arms of the chairs. '_No,'_ she thought, trying to steady her breathing. He was talking and she tried to latch onto his words, to listen to the anger in them. He paused and in that instant of silence she heard the sound of glass shattering, and gasped for air. She could feel her heart speed up, her breathing becoming erratic and she closed her eyes, trying to push back the memories that came at her with a vengeance.

And in that moment, her ability to tread water gave way and she felt herself sink, not knowing how she would be able to resurface.

xxx

"Sara…" Grissom stepped towards her, his eyes widening in disbelief, the heated words he had been planning to say, disappearing from his mind.

She slid from the chair, collapsing to the ground, gasping for air, as she gripped the legs of the other chair. His hand touched her arm and his mouth twisted at how cold she felt. Repeating her name, he moved to shift her body so he could see her face. "I …I can't breath," she gasped, her eyes full of terror as she struggled for air, closing them tightly as tears slid down her face.

"Sara," he murmured, grasping her shoulders to keep her upright. "You're having a panic attack. Focus on my voice."

Grissom kept his voice neutral, not wanting to aggravate her any further as he watched her grapple for air, her tears flowing more freely. "You need to breathe, Sara," he murmured, rubbing her arms, trying to soothe her. "Work on trying to steady your breaths."

"I can't," she cried out, dropping her head to her chest, violently thrashing against his grip, desperate to get away from him. _'I don't need you. I don't want you.' _Her crying became harder, her gasps for air more difficult.

"Yes you can," he said, laying her down on the floor, trying to still her movements. "Breathe, concentrate on breathing."

He wasn't sure how long he knelt next to her, running his fingers through her hair and talking to her, trying to calm her and get her to breathe properly. Finally she did, her eyes opening and locking with his. Outside of the office he heard the noises of the lab. It wouldn't be long before someone looked in and wondered what was going on. _'She needs to get out of here.'_

Grissom moved closer to her and pulled her up. "Sara, can you walk?" he asked, grabbing his keys from the desk. She didn't move and he braced an arm around her before steering her out of the office and down the hallway, ignoring the glances their way.

"Grissom?" Catherine called and he walked past her, disregarding her calls after them.

There was no resistance in Sara as they walked and it worried him. Pulling open the door to the passenger seat of his Denali he watched as she sat down and buckled herself in, her expression lifeless, her eyes blank as she stared ahead. He closed the door and walked towards the driver's side.

She had shattered into a million pieces in front of him and all he had done was watch. Glancing across the seat at her, he worried over the surrender in her posture and started the ignition, driving them away from the lab, wondering what he could do to help, dreading that it was too late for him to help.

"I don't think I can do this anymore," she said, breaking the silence in the car.

He glanced over at her, watching as she stared down at her hands. "Sara?" he asked, not quite sure what she meant.

"I want to live, Grissom," she whispered, leaning her head onto the cool glass. "And I have no idea how."

Her eyes closed again and he reached across the seat, grasping one of her hands in his, alarmed at how cold she still felt. "It's human nature to love, to be loved. I don't think I can," she continued, pulling her hand from his and wrapping it protectively around her stomach. "Maybe I'm not supposed to."

Grissom listened to her breathing even out as she surrendered to exhaustion. He knew that something had to be done, but was unsure what. So, he kept driving, uncertain where he was going, hoping that when he figured out their destination he would uncover a way to help fix this.

xxx

Sara blinked and took in her bearings, noting the sparse furnishings. '_I'm at Grissom's,'_ she realized, her eyes fixing on the man sitting in the chair opposite her. His blue eyes were focused on her, worry evident in them. She looked away, silently cursing him. _'Why did he have to bring me here?'_

"I want to go to my apartment," she said, breaking the silence and looked up at him, her eyes void of any emotion. _'Not my home. I don't have a home.'_

"What is going on?" he asked, ignoring her statement.

"I want to go to my apartment," she repeated, standing up, and looking around at her feet. "Where's my purse?"

"My office," he replied. "Sit down, Sara."

She refused, moving away from the chair to stand by one of the windows, looking out at the scorching sunlight. His eyes were still on her, and she knew he was studying her, observing her like all of his insects. Analyzing her, comparing her, trying to put her into a category he could decipher. "Stop it," she growled.

"Stop what?" he asked, calmly.

She shook her head at the ease radiating from him. He was always in so much control, keeping order in all parts of his life. "I'm not one of your god damn specimens, Grissom," she replied. "Stop trying to figure me out."

There was no answer and she was unsure whether or not that made her happy as she leaned her head against the cool glass. "What happened in my office?" he asked, breaking the silence.

"It doesn't matter," she sighed, watching as people drifted by outside, busily going on with their daily lives. '_I have no daytime life,'_ she thought, tracing figure eights on the window. _'I've been consumed by the night.'_

"Of course it matters," he replied, and she shook her head at his voice. "You had a panic attack in my office."

"Look, Gris, I promise it won't happen again at work," she answered, giving him the answer she thought he needed to hear.

She smiled wryly to herself when there was no immediate answer. _'Maybe I can leave now.'_

"Is it happening at your apartment too?" he asked and she frowned, not answering immediately. "Sara?"

She whirled around, her face a fury of emotions. "What do you want from me? Explain it please, because I can't keep doing this. One minute you're nice, trying to see how I am, concerned about my feelings and the next you could care less if I was there, biting my head off, treating me as though I was a CSI level 1," she yelled, venting her frustrations.

His eyes widened and she saw a flicker of pain in his eyes. _'Good,'_ she thought. _'I'm sick of being the one who is always hurting.'_

"I told you more than I've ever told another living soul because I thought I could trust you," she continued, unable to stop the words leaving her mouth. "That was a joke. How can I trust someone whose job it seems is to continually jerk me around? I can't live like this, I can't work like this. I deserve more."

"Yes you do," he whispered, his voice full of sadness.

"No!" she yelled, pointing a finger at him. "You do not get to sit there and act sad, as though you … as though you actually care."

"I hate you," she said softly, hugging herself.

He didn't say a word, didn't move a muscle. "I have to go to my apartment," she said and started past him, not looking at him, not wanting her resolve to break.

He touched her arm and she stopped, shaking her head as she did. "Why won't you just let me go?" she whispered, tears running freely down her face.

"Don't leave," he said his voice barely audible.

She hiccupped and allowed her resolve to break, looking over at him, startled by the vulnerability she witnessed. His hand grasped hers and she sank to her knees. "I can't do this anymore," she whispered, leaning her head against his knee.

"Neither can I," he replied and somewhere far away he could hear the sound of a little girl crying softly, desperate to find her way back home.

**TBC**


	5. Chapter 5

**A Breaking Point**

By Jess aka willowaus

Disclaimer: I do not own CSI and I am in no way making any money from writing this, alas.

A/N: Balloons to AussiRayne for the beta (everyone likes balloons, right?). Big thanks to all of you for reviewing and reading.

**Part Five**

He had to keep moving, continuously pushing his way through the dense forest, snapping branches to clear his way. Somewhere out here she was lost and all alone, crying out for him. Another twig smacked against his face, cutting his cheek. The crying grew louder and he knew he was nearing her. His mouth opened to cry words to calm her but his voice wouldn't cooperate. Finally clearing the trees, he stepped into a clearing and saw the little girl standing on the other side of it, looking at him with blue eyes full of sadness. Her mouth opened and he could see the gap he adored as she spoke, "You're too late."

Grissom woke, his eyes opening, his heart constricting as her words reverberated in his mind. He controlled his breathing, forcing himself to calm down, and freezing when he realized that Sara was still laying her head against his knee, her breathing steady as she slept. His eyes moved to the clock on his stereo, noting how long they had before shift started before turning to look back at her. Their hands were still connected, fingers entwining as both had succumbed to exhaustion, allowing their bodies rest, even if their minds were never able to turn off.

A frown formed on his face as he watched her breathe. He had failed her, as a supervisor, as a friend. Something had triggered the panic attack, and he had a feeling that there had been signs that he should have noticed. But he had been wrapped up in the case, in his own needs, and disregarded anyone else's.

Leaning his head back against the chair, he closed his eyes, his mouth twisting in anger as he remembered previous conversations from the day. He truly did not know what to do about this, had no idea how to separate work from personal. _'I have no clue how to treat Sara,'_ he berated himself. '_I haven't understood how to interact with her for a long time.' _Shaking his head, he opened his eyes, looking down at her figure.

She was waking, her eyes blinking open as she took in her surroundings. He flinched as she pulled away from him, missing the warmth of her hand in his and her body against his leg. She was staring at her hands, watching as they fiddled with her shirt, refusing to look at him. He watched her and he knew she could feel his eyes on her, and wondered when she would finally look up.

"You can watch me all you want, it doesn't change anything," she said, her eyes still downcast. "I want to go to my apartment."

"What happened?" he prodded and watched her shoulders slump in defeat.

"Why does it matter?" Sara asked, looking up at him, desperation shining through her eyes. She shook her head and continued, "I won't let it interfere with work anymore. I don't know how, but I'll--"

"I don't care about work," he interrupted, leaning forward, and grasped her shoulders, repeating himself.

She looked away from him, her hands touching his chest, and for a moment he was sure she was going to push him away, but instead they grasped his shirt, her head bending and resting against his shoulder. He felt her hiccup and knew that she was crying. "Honey…" he said, one of his hands moving to gently rub her back.

"No!" she cried suddenly, pushing herself away from him. "No."

He kneeled beside her, unsure what had happened. Tears stained her face and her body trembled. "No," she repeated. "You…no."

"Sara?" he asked, reaching a hand out to her.

She slapped it away, sitting back and pulling her knees up to her, reminding him of the day he had sat in her apartment and listened to her story. She violently shook her head before laying it on her knees. "I don't need you," she said. "I don't want you."

Grissom leaned back, stunned at the venom in her voice. _'You're too late.'_ He blinked as he looked at her, the voice from his dream tormenting him. Images ran through his head, his eyes growing wider with each one. Sara walking out of his townhouse, Sara leaving the lab, Sara moving from Las Vegas, a life without her laid out waiting for him. _'No,'_ he shook his head.

"No," he whispered, looking over at Sara, watching her body tremble.

"No," he repeated louder, moving over to her, his hands moving to cradle her face.

She looked up at him, her eyes searching his face, stunned by the helplessness seeping from them. "No," he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper. "No."

"Grissom?" she asked, frightened by the emotions spilling from him.

"No," he repeated, his chin resting against her forehead, before bending to kiss it.

Sara's hands moved to his arms, intent on pushing him away, but as she felt him quiver beneath her fingers she stopped herself, gently gripping them instead. His hands moved from her face, pulling her body against his, holding tightly onto her, his face buried in her hair, muffled words leaving his mouth. She closed her eyes, leaning into him, hating herself for letting him touch her, hating even more that she finally felt at peace.

She tried to focus on his words, desperate to ignore the way his hands caressed her back or the feel of his lips on her hair. "…without you," he murmured. "I don't know what I would do, I just don't know."

He pulled away from her, his hands moving to her face, forcing her to look in his eyes. "Sara," he whispered, his lips kissing her forehead again, startling her with how soft his kisses were, before pulling away to look at her again. "Relationships….god, Sara…"

She watched him struggle to form words, forcing herself not to grin at his speechlessness. "You…you infuriate me," he finally said.

She raised an eyebrow in response, not expecting that. He shook his head, clearly not liking what he had said, before continuing, "It took me years to build this life, to cultivate my ease at observing, at living alone and being aloof."

Her mouth opened, prepared to give a nasty retort, when he shook his head again, hurriedly speaking, "You scare me unlike any one I have ever met."

She didn't want to hear this and struggled to move away from him, expecting this to be a longwinded speech about why they couldn't be together. He kept a firm grip on her, his eyes pleading with her to understand. "But do you know what scares me even more?" he said.

"Losing your job," she muttered, remembering his conversation with Dr. Lurie. _'I'm not worth the risk.'_

"No," he growled. "You."

"You already said that you were scared of me," Sara replied, attempting to move away from him, cursing him for pulling her back into this never ending cycle.

"No!" Grissom said, tugging her back to him. "Losing you."

She looked away, not believing him. "Not seeing you at work," he continued and his hands cupped her face, moving it so she could see him.

"I don't really want to leave the lab," she told him. "I didn't mean that."

His face moved closer to hers, forehead leaning against hers. "Not hearing your voice," he murmured. "Not seeing your smile. God, I miss your smile."

She closed her eyes, feeling his breath only a few millimeters away from her lips. "Not ever knowing," he continued and she shivered as she felt his lip brush against hers before moving away.

"Knowing?" she asked, gripping his shoulders.

"What you taste like, what you feel like," he murmured, his breath once again by her lips.

She felt him lean towards her and she ducked her head, shaking it slightly. "No," she whispered, hating herself and dropped her hands from him.

She waited for him to move away from her, to build up his shield again. She never expected his hands to cup her face again, lifting her head so his eyes would meet hers. They were soft and full of guilt as his hands moved to caress her neck. "I don't know how to make things better," he whispered.

"Neither do I," she replied and let him pull her close, burying her head into his neck, wrapping her arms around him.

The incessant ring of his cell phone broke them apart and he groaned as he retrieved it from the side table. "Grissom," he said and flinched.

Sara could hear Catherine's voice and smiled at the pained expression on his face. After a few seconds he hung up and looked at her. "We're needed?" she asked.

He nodded. "Sara…"

"We're fine," she lied, standing up.

"No, we are not," he countered as he rose. "I would like to…have breakfast after shift to try and sort this out."

She looked at him and bit her lip. "I don't know," she replied.

"Think about it," Grissom urged.

She nodded and smoothed out her clothes. "I'm going to use your bathroom to…" she said pointing to her face and slipped away from him.

He watched her go and sighed. It wasn't too late, he wouldn't let it be. He couldn't.

**TBC**


	6. Chapter 6

**A Breaking Point**

By Jess aka willowaus

Disclaimer: I do not own CSI and I am in no way making any money from writing this, alas.

A/N: Cookies to AussiRayne for the beta. Sorry for the delay, being sick sucks, especially when you still have to go in and work with a bunch of sick kiddos. Big thanks to all of you for reviewing and reading.

**Part Six**

As he parked the Denali, Grissom cast a look towards the passenger seat, trying to decipher the meaning behind the body language being displayed. Sara was almost pressed against the side door, her fingers absently playing with the seat belt, her eyes focused anywhere but on him. He watched her quickly undo the belt as he turned off the ignition, her hand touching the door handle.

"Sara," he began and she finally looked at him, her eyes pleading that he not bring anything up right now.

He looked away from her, listening to the door open and close, knowing she was waiting on the outside for him. She had built her professional shell around her already, in an attempt to segregate herself from her personal feelings. It was ironic that when he was willing to discuss their feelings she was the one shying away from conversation. _'Nothing is ever easy between us,_' he thought, as he removed the keys, unbuckled himself and met her on the outside.

"Catherine's going to want to know where we went," Sara said, looking at the building.

"We were not on shift and if she has questions, I will deal with them," Grissom replied, walking towards the door.

He looked at the handle, unsure of how to proceed. Should he open it for her, or walk through it first as he often did? Was there a happy medium and how would she react to any change in his behavior? A sigh escaped her as she walked around him, making the decision for him and opening the door on her own. He trailed behind her, his emotionless expression hiding the turmoil of thoughts surging through him.

"We're meeting in the conference room," Grissom informed her as he stopped at reception to obtain any messages.

The receptionist from earlier gave a quick, nervous smile as she handed him a stack of papers before going back to her other duties. He flipped through the messages, disregarding the ones he deemed pointless, as he walked towards the meeting. He looked up, watching as various personnel moved from his path, a tense aura surrounding them, causing him to wonder about his behavior earlier in the day. Making a quick stop in his office, he retrieved the file for the little girl's case and made his way to the conference room, nodding to Catherine, Warrick, and Nick as he took a seat, Sara walking in a few seconds behind him.

"Where have you been?" Catherine asked, her eyes moving between Sara and he.

Grissom ignored the question and opened the file he had, placing the photographs on the table. "Our Jane Doe," he said.

Warrick and Nick shook their heads at the broken child's body. "Not Jane Doe," Catherine replied, pushing an evidence bag with the picture of the little girl, alive and well, forward. "Her name is Julia Corbin. She was five years old."

She pushed forward pictures of the victim's from swingshifts case. "Meet her mother, Lilly, her father, Mark, and her seven-year-old brother, Ethan," Catherine said.

"Her family was found by the maid when she went to clean the room at 1:15 Saturday afternoon. They had been dead for fourteen hours," Warrick informed them, producing photographs of the crime scene.

"We searched that room top to bottom and there was never any sign of a little girl having been there," Catherine said, looking at the photographs.

"However, I talked to the hotel today, and they confirmed that there were four people in that room, two adults and two children," Nick said.

Grissom nodded and looked at the photographs. "They were all shot," he noted.

"No one heard any noise," Catherine said.

"They were staying in murder central," Nick added. "And no one was in the room next to them."

Sara shook her head, looking at the various pictures of the family. "Julia was found at nine pm on Saturday," she told the others. "Dr. Robbins puts her time of death at five pm."

"He didn't have her for very long," Nick remarked.

"Long enough," Grissom replied and silence fell over the table as they looked at the various pieces of their puzzle.

"Why did he use a gun on the family and a knife on the girl?" Warrick pondered allowed.

"The other members' deaths were a means to an end," Sara replied, looking at the photographs of the positioning of the bodies. The mother's body lay by the bathroom door, partway inside of the other room. The father's was near the door that opened to the hallway. The little boy's was halfway underneath one of the beds. "He killed them to get what he wanted."

"We believe Mark Corbin was shot first, most likely as he opened the door, alerting the others to the killer's presence," Catherine said, taking the photographs from Sara.

"If Mr. Corbin let him in, it was either someone they knew, or someone they had no reason to suspect of harming them," Nick offered.

"Someone employed by the hotel?" Sara asked.

"We lifted eight different prints from the Corbin's suitcases and various prints from around the room," Warrick said.

"No fingerprints, we did have several shoe prints," Grissom said, placing the photographs on the table.

"I'm still trying to narrow down the exact shoe," Sara said. "It's a new style."

"That may come to our advantage," Warrick said, smiling.

She nodded and looked down at the rest of the evidence. "What else?" she asked.

"No fibers," Nick said shaking his head.

"Nothing of a little girl's was in the room?" Grissom asked, looking at the inventory list.

The members of swing shift shook their heads. "And there were three suitcases," Warrick added, handing a picture of the matching cases to the supervisor.

Sara looked over his shoulder, mulling the different information around in her mind. "He took her suitcase," she said, looking at Grissom. "He took her and her things and walked right out of the hotel."

"She would probably have been kicking and screaming the entire way," Nick said.

"And people would have thought she was having a tantrum," Catherine said, sighing. "A/V has the video footage from the hotel. Unfortunately, the camera's that showed outside of the victim's room were malfunctioning."

"It was on their list of things to have fixed," Warrick added, bitterly.

"We need to get footage of the casino floor and other areas," Grissom said. "We may be able to catch them on one of those."

Catherine nodded. "Warrick and Nick are going back to the casino now," she informed him before turning to the two CSIs. "Talk with the manager and secure those tapes. Take one more run through the room."

Nick and Warrick nodded and stood, quietly exiting the room. "Sara," Grissom began.

"Shoeprint," she replied, standing. "I'm on it."

He watched Catherine watch him as the door shut behind them. "What's going on?" the swing shift supervisor asked, looking behind him at Sara's retreating form.

"What are you referring to?" he asked, collecting his case's evidence.

She looked back at him, rolling her eyes and leaned back in the chair. "You know precisely what I am referring to," she answered.

"I don't believe its any concern of yours," he replied, stacking the papers on one another.

Catherine sighed before she began, "You have no professional perception when it comes to her."

His head snapped back to her. "I think that's where you have it all wrong," he said. "My perception has been entirely professional when it comes to Sara."

_'That was my problem,' _he added silently to himself.

An undignified snort left Catherine. "You let her get away with too much, Gil," she said.

"Oh?" he asked. "I don't believe Sara has ever used the lab to her own advantage, Catherine. Nor has she accepted money from suspects."

Catherine's eyes narrowed. "Just leave it alone," Grissom said and exited the room, ignoring the chill trailing behind him.

xxx

Sitting down and looking at the piles of shoeprints in front of her, Sara sighed and pulled a stack towards her. _'I don't think I even skimmed the top of the new prints,'_ she moaned to herself and begun the comparison. She tried to keep her attention on the materials in front of her, forced her eyes to remain fixed on the table instead of allowing them to wander to the observation room. Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw the door to the other room open, and she cast a glance towards it, watching as Grissom left the room, leaving behind an annoyed Catherine.

Sara shook her head and refocused on the comparison she was meant to be doing, struggling not to think about what they two had been discussing. The two supervisors were friends, but from the look the swing shift supervisor was directing towards Grissom, Sara wondered about the stability of their friendship. She shook her head, forcing the thoughts away, reprimanding herself for not focusing on work.

_'This little girl deserves your full attention,'_ she scolded herself, placing another print in the elimination pile. She picked up another paper, a smile forming on her face as she completed the comparison. "Got it," she said and swiveled her chair towards the phone.

She heard someone enter the room as she talked with customer service and held up a hand, gesturing one minute, before she thanked the representative and hung up. She turned in the chair, offering a hesitant smile to Grissom who stood in the doorway. "I found the shoe," she told him, lifting the print for him to see. "Skechers boot, Comfort plus four."

He nodded and she continued, "They're sending me a list of all stores that have sold the boot in the Las Vegas area. Might be a long shot, but you never know."

Grissom nodded again. She waited a few seconds for him to speak, wondering what had brought him to where she was working. "Stores are all closing up, so I'll come in early tomorrow and start searching that angle," she said when he failed to comment.

"You're already maxed out on overtime for the month, Sara," he said, stepping into the room.

She folded her arms across her chest and rolled her eyes. "Well, it has to be done," she countered.

"Sofia can stay after for a few hours and complete it," he told her. "She has overtime still available."

"She doesn't know anything about the case," Sara said, her eyes wide in disbelief.

"Bring her up to date on it," Grissom said, his voice implying that the discussion was over.

She held back from commenting further, standing from her seat and cleaning up the work she had been doing. "Fine," she replied, and scrawled a few quick notes on the paper she had been using for notes. He hadn't left and she looked up. "Anything else?"

"Assignments in five minutes," he told her and turned to leave.

Sara shook her head, looking up at him when he said her name. "Five minutes," he repeated and exited the room, leaving behind a frustrated CSI.

Grissom walked towards his office, needing a few minutes to gather his thoughts before having to deal with passing out assignments. He entered the room and walked towards the terrarium, peering inside to see his tarantula resting underneath the driftwood. He smiled gently at the creature before taking a seat at his desk. A frown settled on his face as he realized that there was more paperwork to go through.

He looked up, intent on taking his mind away from the mind numbing task, and watched as Sara walked by, carrying the papers towards the evidence room. A sigh escaped him as she passed and he looked back at the papers. He knew she wanted to deal with the shoeprints herself, but as supervisor he couldn't afford to let her take anymore overtime. She was angry and he was frustrated, hating that his position was interfering with their personal relationship before they even truly had a personal relationship. He closed his eyes, possibilities of future disagreements running through his head.

He had no idea how to balance the professional with the personal. Opening his eyes, he sighed, wondering if it was even possible. _'There is a reason why fraternization between employees is frowned upon,'_ he reminded himself, looking at the papers.

"Are you planning on handing out assignments?"

Grissom looked up, surprised to see Sara standing in his doorway. She smiled at him and headed towards the break room. Perhaps she wasn't angry with him. He shook his head, wondering how he could look at a piece of evidence and see what had occurred at a crime scene but when it came to Sara, he could barely keep up with what would happen in the next few seconds.

He stood, grabbed the assignments from the desk, and walked towards the other room, watching Greg and Sara converse as he entered the break room. "Hello, Grissom," Sofia greeted as she sat down at the table.

Sara and Greg took their seats, looking towards him. "Greg, you have a breaking and entering on Charleston," Grissom informed the younger man, handing him the slip. "You're going solo. Take your time, and if you need assistance, call."

Greg nodded, smiling happily as he took the paper. "Sofia, missing person," he continued, handing the slip off.

"Sara, you're with me," he informed her, ignoring her raised eyebrow. He looked at the other two. "These are not going to solve themselves."

Everyone rose from their seats, and Grissom glared as Greg whispered something to Sara as he left, his expression souring as he heard Sara laugh in response. "So, what do we have?" Sara asked as Sofia exited the room.

"We're going to try and retrace the Corbin family's steps over the last couple of days," Grissom replied, handing her a slip of paper. "According to the hotel, they checked in on Wednesday at three pm."

"So, they may have met the killer sometime between Wednesday afternoon and Friday night," she said, reading the information.

He nodded. "The Tangiers has a list of all the activities they did at the hotel," he told her. "We'll start there."

**TBC**


	7. Chapter 7

**A Breaking Point**

By Jess aka willowaus

Disclaimer: I do not own CSI and I am in no way making any money from writing this, alas.

A/N: Lots of thanks to AussiRayne for the beta. Sorry for the delay, you have to love real life. :P  
Big thanks to all of you for reviewing and reading.

**Part Seven**

Flashing lights, syncopated chords of various slot machines mixed in with strings of enjoyment and curses of loss surrounded her. She blinked against the onslaught to her senses, thankful that most of the crimes they investigated didn't take place at the casinos. There was too much noise, too many people, too much happening in a confined area. Sara shook her head as she followed Brass and Grissom through the casino floor, wondering how Warrick had come to love being in places like this. _'Though, I don't think it was the flashing lights and noise he was drawn to,'_ she reminded herself, walking by a black jack table, eyes focused on the group of people gathered around.

Her gaze shifted to Brass and Grissom, falling into step behind them, following their eye line to the various cameras placed in vicinity of the tables. She mentally added them to the list of tapes they already needed to collect, looking away to observe the various tourists and locals ambling about. A sad smile graced her lips. It was nearing two o'clock in the morning and the floor was as busy as ever, nearly every machine and table buzzing with activity.

Her eyes faltered on one man, hand clutching the handle as he pulled it back, grumbling obscenities under his breath as he came up empty. She watched him fumble in his pockets, withdrawing his wallet and removing more bills, jamming them into the machine and continuing the cycle. His image shifted, replaced by her father, his hand clutching the same lever. She watched the image of her seven-year-old self running up the carpeted aisle, clutching a new teddy bear in one hand, a bright smile on her face as she stopped beside him, talking wildly and animatedly. Shock taking over her as her father slapped her across the face, silencing her.

Sara's hand touched her cheek, feeling the searing pain of the phantom slap, still able to smell the alcohol on her father's breath from all those years past. Mouth twisting, she looked away from the man, scanning the crowd. She never did like casinos.

Her body was performing that familiar tingling sensation up her spine, and she just knew that Grissom was watching her. A frown settled on her face, and she wished that they were outside and she could don her sunglasses, place between them one more barrier. _'Our eyes are the windows to our soul,'_ she thought with a bittersweet smile, remembering one of her mother's favorite phrases. She took a second, perfecting her mask of professionalism, hiding all the cracks in her wall, and then turned back to the two of them.

"We're going to need to come back during the daytime to question the people at KidsQuest," Sara informed them, nodding towards the now blackened sign that designated the casino's daycare center. "According to the casino, Julia and Ethan were at the facilities Thursday and Friday from nine am until twelve pm."

"That coincides with the times Mrs. Corbin was at the spa," Grissom replied, looking down at the print out in his hands.

"Where was Mr. Corbin?" Brass asked, glancing at the sheets.

"Where else," Sara replied with a wry smile, motioning towards the casino floor, keeping her gaze from Grissom's.

The three walked in silence towards the concierge desk, each lost in their own thoughts as they passed the flickering lights. The nighttime manager saw them coming and motioned for them to follow him into one of the backrooms, away from prying eyes. Though, Sara wondered if anyone would have paid the slightest attention to them since everyone's focus was on the quick rush of the casino or drowning out their own pain. As the door closed behind her, she realized she couldn't begrudge anyone finding ways to make the pain dissipate.

With a slight tilt of her head, she refocused herself on the proceedings occurring before her, listening and watching the manager converse with Brass and Grissom. "…what it is you think you'll find, Mr. Grissom," he said, handing over a stack of videos and papers. "We've been over the footage and no one has seen any sign of foul play or that the Corbin's family was being watched."

Silently, Sara placed her kit down and removed two plastic evidence bags from one of the pockets in her vest. The evidence was slipped inside and she sealed them, avoiding Grissom's gaze again, focusing her attention on the manager's behavior. "How much money did Mr. Corbin lose?" she asked, scribbling her name on the evidence seal.

He hesitated and she looked up. "He beat the house," she realized, looking up at him. "How much did he win?"

"Five hundred twenty-five thousand dollars," the manager said.

"And where was this being kept?" she asked, doubting that money was a motive for the killings, but knowing they needed to consider all avenues.

"In a safety deposit box in the hotel safe," he answered. "I can show it to you if you like."

The three looked at him and he offered a shaky smile before leading them through another door and back towards the hotel safe. "Why didn't anyone mention the large win to us?" Brass asked as the manager punched in the combination.

"No one saw it as a vital piece of information," he answered and led them to the rows of safety deposit boxes, removing the keys from his pocket.

Sara shook her head, forcing back the urge to roll her eyes, as the box was opened. She placed her kit down on the floor and removed her camera, taking pictures of the various stacks of hundred dollar bills that were inside. "We're going to need to take that as evidence," Grissom informed the manager.

Sara slipped on a pair of gloves and removed another evidence bag, carefully slipping the money in as the others talked. "When did Mr. Corbin win big?" Brass asked.

"Friday night, a little before nine pm," the manager answered. "Do you think someone could have killed them for the money that was won?"

"We can't rule any motive out at the moment, Mr. Walters," Brass replied.

Sara stared at the multitude of bills before her, doubtful that money had been the motive behind the family's slaying. The perpetrator had been after Julia, the others' deaths had been a means to an end.

* * *

Big smiles and wide eyes full of laughter stared back at Sara from the glossy photographs. She flipped through the stack of pictures, her mouth curling in a small smile as she looked at the various poses. Her hand stilled on the next one, smile fading, as she gazed at Julia and Ethan laying on the hotel bed, smiling happily at the camera, both of them shoveling handfuls of popcorn into their mouths. They wore pajamas, and from the reflection in the mirror, she saw that they were watching television, their mother taking a random shot of them on their vacation.

They looked full of life, no cares or worries bothering them, so much promise in each of them. And now both of them were dead, taken from the world. She closed her eyes shaking her head and then looked back at the picture, eyes narrowing as she saw herself and older brother instead of the Corbin children. Her eyes closed again, silently counting to ten before reopening them, satisfied when the images were gone.

She placed the photographs down and turned to look at the large white board before her, picking up the whiteboard marker, and scrawling down the time the family had checked in at the hotel. She taped the receipt for the Tangiers underneath it and picked up the sheet the credit card company had sent over.

Over the next thirty minutes, she continued the time line, scrawling times that could be substantiated by credit card receipts or the hotel's logs, accounting for the family's whereabouts over the last few days. She finished recording the eight pm order of a movie on Friday night and stood back, looking at the timeline before her. She picked up the stack of photographs again, flipping through them, finding ones the correlated and placing them beneath the writing.

_'They look happy,'_ she thought, placing a picture of Julia and her mother at the pool back down on the table. A long forgotten image of her younger self and her mother at the beach sprang to life, flooding her senses. She could almost smell the salty air and feel the hot sand beneath her feet.

"Happiness is just an illusion, baby. Remember that," her mother whispered to her, twirling in the breaking waves, shoes in hand.

Her younger self giggled and twirled after her mother, smiling widely as the water crashed at her legs, splashing trinkets of water onto her shorts, delighted in the carefree experience, relishing the time they spent together.

"Hey, Sara," Greg greeted as he walked into the room, interrupting her thoughts.

She turned towards him and raised an eyebrow. "Archie has stills from the Tangier videos for you," he said and handed her a stack of photographs. "I told him I'd give them to you."

"Thanks, Greg," she said and turned through the pile, stopping at the last one.

Julia Corbin was being dragged through the hotel floor, towards the parking lot, by a man with a baseball cap, a suitcase in his other hand. She looked down at the time stamp and shook her head. _'__11:23 pm__,'_ she thought and placed the photo and time after the time of death for the other family members. _'Twenty-three minutes after her family was killed she was dragged through the hotel and no one lifted a finger to stop him.'_

She sighed and focused on the other stills, beginning the task of placing them in the appropriate spaces on the timeline.

* * *

"This footage is from the family's camera," Archie informed the night shift supervisor, nodding towards the colored movie on the screen. "It starts at their residence."

Grissom nodded, taking a seat beside the A/V technician, eyes glued to the happenings playing out on the screen. Lively, jubilant faces moved back and forth, throwing packs into the SUV, laughter rolling through the air. Mr. Corbin scooped up a surprised Julia, twirling her around and around as giggles escaped her, Mrs. Corbin's voice warning him to not make her too dizzy.

He heard Archie utter something about coffee before leaving the room, his mind preoccupied. The footage changed, showing the family inside the SUV, desert on either side of them, Ethan, Julia and Mr. Corbin singing a boisterous round of 'She'll be coming round the mountain.' Grissom's mouth tightened as he stared at Mr. Corbin, amazed by the man's behavior. His father never would have sung with him. He shook his head, disregarding any thoughts about the man.

The footage changed, Mr. Corbin now in charge of the camera, shots of the Strip coming into view as the family drove down Las Vegas Blvd. Laughter and enthusiastic babble from the children accompanied the shots. The images and sounds altered in his mind, Mrs. Corbin's laughter becoming Sara's, the children's becoming the voice of the little girl from his dreams. He shook his head, forcing the images away, staring blankly at the screen in front of him.

"I finished the timeline," Sara announced quietly from the doorway.

He turned to look at her, eyes seeking hers before she looked away causing him to frown. "The Corbin's home videos," he informed her, turning back to the rolling footage.

She moved into the room, standing beside him, eyes focused on the screen. An impromptu serenade from Julia who stood on the bed in her pajamas was on the screen, Ethan playing an air guitar behind her. "They look happy," Sara said before looking away from the screen.

Grissom nodded. "It's funny how easy it can be to look happy," she continued, shaking her head. "I need a drink."

He turned towards her and raised an eyebrow. She rolled her eyes. "Coffee, Grissom," she muttered and walked away.

He watched her go before turning back to the tape, catching a glimpse of the Corbin family as they were in life, hoping it might give some answers to their deaths.

* * *

'_Seventy-three photographs in three days,'_ Sara thought with a bittersweet smile, eyes falling on the pile of photographs lying on the layout table. She turned her attention from the pictures and picked up one of the larger suitcases, setting it on the table. Inside she found an array of clothing belonging to Ethan Corbin, a mixture of sports designs and Spiderman paraphernalia decorating the shirts and shorts.

Many outsiders saw this part of the CSI's job as monotonous, wondering how anyone could pour over evidence for hours on end to find a hair fiber or an unseen fingerprint. However, Sara knew it was this painstakingly slow process that allowed for the collection of key evidence that often would associate someone with a crime. The little details were usually the most important, showing motive, connecting a perpetrator to a crime scene. They were also the easiest to dismiss or overlook.

Her mouth twisted in thought as she moved the ALS over the contents. She had become gifted in construing details, on picking up the slight quirks and body language of others. It was how she had learned to survive, to cope in her household. It was what made her good at her job.

Her eyes traveled back to the photographs, gazing at the top one, taking in the different members of the Corbin family. They were in front of the Bellagio, arms around one another, and big smiles on their faces. She tilted her head, reading the various displays she saw, forming a picture in her mind of that moment in time. The children had huge smiles on their faces, but their eyes were downcast, their father's hands gripping one of their shoulders tightly, Mrs. Corbin's shoulders slumped, her smile wide. To the average viewer they would look happy, a family thoroughly enjoying their vacation.

Sara looked away, sighing slightly as she turned off the ALS. The photographs of her childhood were the same, forced happiness, an illusion of tranquility when out in public, hiding the tumultuous happenings that occurred daily when hidden away in the home. She placed the ALS down and pulled the stack towards her, flipping through the various photographs.

They were snapshots into the Corbin family life, capturing images of happier times. People seldom took pictures of their lives during down points. Often there were not photographs of tears or fights displayed in a home. One didn't need a physical reminder of those events; they had their own way of staying seared into ones brain.

Sara placed the photographs down, her eyes never leaving the one on top, moving to lean on her elbows as she looked down at the picture. Julia was sitting with her father, her hands out in a jubilant display, her mouth open in mid sentence, Mr. Corbin's eyes watching her with interest, a slightly amused smile on his face. The image shifted and Sara saw her five-year-old self with her father, watching him tinker away on their beat up old car. A sad smile spread across her face as she remembered the smell of oil and the clinking of tools against the metal.

"Shift is over," Grissom announced from the doorway, eyes intently watching her.

She looked over her shoulder and nodded. "I'm almost done," she replied, looking back at the photographs, placing them away from her.

He moved to stand beside her, eyes fixed on the photograph she had been looking at. "Sara," he began and she closed her eyes, waiting for him to tell her she needed to be off this case.

"Come on," he urged gently, placing the photographs back in the evidence bag. "Shift is over. Let's go get breakfast."

She looked up at him and worry flickered over his features as he took in her exhausted appearance. "I just want to sleep," she whispered, gathering bags of evidence.

"But I can't sleep," she continued, her voice barely audible.

Grissom followed her out of the room, bags of evidence in his hand, trying to ignore the worried look of the little brown haired girl he could see reflected in the lab's glass walls.

**TBC**


	8. Chapter 8

**A Breaking Point**

By Jess aka willowaus

Disclaimer: I do not own CSI and I am in no way making any money from writing this, alas.

A/N: Lots of thanks to AussiRayne for the beta. Sorry for the delay, stabs real life…on with the story…

**Part Eight**

When he turned onto 4th Street instead of making a right onto Stewart she knew they were heading back to his townhouse. Passing each restaurant and diner along the way, she wondered if she was wrong, if he would pull over and they would end up in one these buildings. As he parked in front of his house, she leaned her head against the window. '_Should have told him you would follow,'_ she berated herself.

She turned to offer a forced smile, shaking her head instead at the patient look he gave her. At least she had her purse. She could always catch a cab if she really needed to. Unbuckling her seatbelt she heaved a heavy sigh and got out of the car, closing the door and leaning against it as she waited for him to exit.

Grissom started up the stairs, stopping a few steps up he turned and looked behind him. She had yet to move from her spot, still gently leaning against the SUV, her gaze far away. "Coming?" he asked and continued up the steps, confident that she would follow, squelching the urge to look back again.

A quote came unbidden to his mind, something long buried from countless Catholic Sunday school lessons. '_But Lot_'_s wife turned back, and she was turned into a pillar of salt.'_ His mouth twisted in thought as he placed his key in the lock, unlocking the door. If he looked behind would the same fate happen to him, or would it be worse? Turning the knob, he cringed and pushed the door open. '_Worse would be if she was no longer standing behind me…"_

Walking further into his abode, a breath he didn't know he had been holding was released when he heard the door shut, followed by her footsteps behind him. He continued his course towards the kitchen, his brow furrowing as he wondered if he had anything she would eat. He opened the refrigerator door, a small smile gracing his face as he spotted the bag of apples on the bottom shelf. He removed the bag and shut the fridge, turning his attention to the cabinets. His smile grew as he removed a box from one cabinet. Quickly, he gathered the rest of the materials he needed and whipped up an easy breakfast, hoping she would like it.

Balancing the bowls he entered the living room, eyes on Sara's form as she stood in front of one of his displays. "Breakfast?" he asked, placing the bowls down on the table.

She didn't move, didn't acknowledge his statement in any form, one of her hands moving instead to touch the glass. He slowly walked towards her, careful not to startle her as he came to stand beside her. "My mother had this one," she said, her voice barely audible. "Myrtle's silverspot butterfly. They're native to where I grew up."

"They are endangered," he told her, his gaze focused on her instead of the orange butterfly.

"I found it for her," she continued as if she hadn't heard him. "I don't know how it died, but it was lying on our front porch and I picked it up and pinned it to a piece of cardboard. I had just read A girl of the Limberlost. Elnora gathered moths for her friend, the Bird Woman. I gathered a butterfly for my mother."

"She tore it to pieces one night," she finished, her hand dropping to her side.

"Breakfast?" he asked, motioning towards the table.

"I'm not hungry," she half-lied. She was hungry, but sleep seemed to be a much higher priority to her.

"You should eat," he admonished her gently.

"I should do a lot of things," she answered, shifting her purse, and walking towards his table, shoulders slumped in defeat.

She turned to look at him curiously, one eyebrow raised in amusement as she asked, "Frosted flakes?"

He sat down beside his bowl, placing an apple down beside hers. Sara took a seat, looking down at the flakes that were soaked in milk. "Comfort food," Grissom admitted.

She looked over at him, startled by the fact that he was sharing something with her. "Mine is Cheerios," she told him, taking a scoop of the cereal. "My brother was a fan of this Tony the Tiger cereal."

He nodded and silence enveloped the two as they ate, both of their gazes focused on anything but the each other. The point of this breakfast was for them to talk, to try and sort out the situation between them. He frowned and ate another bite, trying to figure out what to start with, unsure what to say.

Grissom's eyes finally traveled back to her, watching her as she ate, taking in her haggard appearance, the slowness with which she picked up the spoon. "Have you been sleeping?" he asked, breaking the silence.

Sara shrugged. "As much as I ever do," she answered another lie to add to her list.

"Sara," he said, the way he said her name causing her to look at him. "Are you--?"

She stifled the sigh of relief she wanted to exhale as his phone rang. He glared at the object before flipping it open and gruffly saying his name in greeting. She took the opportunity to stand up and bring her dishes to the sink, watching the milk disappear down the drain.

"That was Jacqui," he told her, placing his dishes beside hers. "She has a handful of matches to the prints found at the scene."

"I'll drive you back to your car. Go home and get some rest," Grissom continued, washing out the two bowls, letting the left over cereal slide down the drain before flicking the disposal on.

He stacked the bowls on top of one another and placed them on a towel. Grissom looked over at her, his brow creasing in worry as he looked at her. She was staring at the bowls, her gaze never wavering. "Sara?" he asked.

She blinked and looked at him. "Ready?" he asked.

She nodded and followed him out of the townhouse and back to his car. The drive back to the lab was driven in silence, Sara hoping that it would stay that way. As he turned the car of he looked over at her.

"Are you alright?" he asked, lifting a hand to touch her.

"I'll see you tonight," she told him as she opened the door, getting out of the car before he could say anything else; his hand falling to his side as he watched her go.

As she drove back to her apartment, she couldn't help but think back to the bowls he had stacked up, and how perfectly they had melded together.

* * *

"I matched all of the fingerprints," Jacqui said with a wide smile. "Four of them belonged to the Corbin family. I matched theirs from the prints Dr. Robbins sent over. The other four sets of prints all have one thing in common." 

"Oh?" Catherine asked, leaning back in her chair and nursing a cup of coffee.

The print technician nodded. "They all were fingerprinted to work at the Tangiers casino," she informed them, taking a stack of papers from the table beside her. "Benjamin Leonard, Molly Phillips, Chelsea Hunt, and Calvin Knight."

Grissom looked at the four copied driver's licenses before looking at Brass. "Shall we see why these four felt the need to be in the Corbin's room?" the captain asked with a smile.

The night shift supervisor didn't answer, merely took the papers and exited the lab.

"Gladly," Catherine answered, taking one last sip of her drink before walking out of the lab. "Thanks, Jacqui."

Brass nodded at the lab tech before following the two CSIs.

* * *

Her apartment. That was where she had been heading. Somehow, and Sara wasn't all that sure how, she had ended up in the parking lot of the Tangiers. It had been five minutes since she had first realized this and she hadn't budged from the seat, eyes locked on the casino. Her car was off, keys in one hand, the other clutching the steering wheel. She saw a Clark County Denali drive by, Brass's car following behind it, and held back the urge to duck from sight. '_They wouldn't have seen you anyway,'_ she told herself.

She shifted, her head coming to lean against the steering wheel, eyes closing, as images of her childhood forced their way into her mind. She watched as her eight-year-old self walked into the house behind her big brother, entering through the kitchen door. Her mother sat at the table, a black eye forming around one eye, bruises running along her arms, their father lying in a drunken stupor in between the doorway to the living room. Her brother's hand gripped hers, pulling her out of the house and into the afternoon light. She spotted a flash of orange to her right and yanked herself out of her brother's grip, scooping up the dead butterfly from the porch, cradling it in her hands, ignoring her brother's cries for her.

Sara blinked, pushing away the images, looking back up at the casino before exiting her vehicle. She walked into the building, sighing at the onslaught of flashing lights and noise. She spotted Grissom, Brass and Catherine walking towards the concierge desk and walked in the opposite direction, trying to figure out why she was there. Stopping, she smiled as she took in the large, sparkling KidsQuest sign.

Talking with KidsQuest had been on her list of things to do. '_Might as well get it done with,'_ she reasoned with herself and walked towards the sign. A family of five came bustling by, the kids running towards the area, their faces full of delight, and their parents full of quiet relief. Sara stood back and watched as the father jotted down information, showing his license and hotel card key. The woman at the counter attached name tags to the kids backs and they scampered off inside, absently waving to their parents as they disappeared through the doors.

Sara resumed walking as the parents left, coming up to the counter and standing beside it as she waited for the woman to return. "Hi, I'm Dana Riles. Can I help you?" the red head asked as she exited the doors, coming back around the counter.

"Sara Sidle, from the crime lab," she informed her and showed her CSI badge to the young woman and smiled, trying to ease the worry that was now in her features. "I have some questions about KidsQuest."

"This is about the Corbin family," the young woman whispered meekly. "Let me get my supervisor."

Sara watched her disappear into through the doors again and leaned against the counter, her eyes sweeping over the floor, unconsciously watching out for Grissom and his entourage. She heard the doors open and turned towards them, watching Dana and an older woman exit. "Hello, Ms. Sidle," the older woman said, extending a hand in greeting.

Sara shook it and smiled. "I'm Vivica Harrison," the woman greeted. "Let's take this into my office."

The two walked around the counter and into another set of doors, entering into a small office with glass windows overlooking the KidsQuest facility. Sara took a seat in one of the chairs as Mrs. Harrison sat behind the desk. "What can I help the Las Vegas crime lab with?" Vivica asked, leaning back in the chair.

"Julia and Ethan Corbin were at this facility Thursday and Friday from nine am until twelve pm," Sara said. "What are the procedures for KidsQuest? How are children dropped off and picked up? What security measures are there?"

"Whoever signs the children in must show a form of ID and preferably a room key if they are staying at the hotel," Vivica replied. "Children are not allowed out of the facility once they have been dropped off, until they are picked up. The child must be picked up by the person that dropped them off, and that person must have proper identification in order to receive the child. Employees are not to bring the children to rooms. We've had some issues with that before and had to change our policy."

She motioned towards the windows. "We have enough activities and areas that the children rarely want to leave. Food is served here and there are rest areas for those who need a rest," Mrs. Harrison continued. "Only authorized personnel are allowed in the facilities and all of my employees undergo the same rigorous process as other daycare employees."

"I need a list of all employees who would have come into contact with Julia and Ethan," Sara said.

"Why?" Mrs. Harrison asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Any information I can gather about the family will help in finding who did this," Sara answered.

The supervisor nodded and moved towards her computer, clicking a few files before the printer came to life. She removed a small stack of papers from it and handed them to Sara. "Here you are," Mrs. Harrison said. "I added their employee cards as well. Phone numbers are on there for your convenience."

Sara nodded. "Thank you, Mrs. Harrison," she replied as she stood.

She exited the room and shook her head as she spotted Grissom, Catherine and Brass on the other side of the counter, conversing with Dana. She smiled weakly and continued her course, nodding to the three. Catherine and Brass's eyes rose in surprise but Grissom's face showed no hint of emotion, his eyes following her every move.

"Here is a list of all the KidsQuest employees who had contact with the family," Sara said, handing the papers to Brass.

"Is Calvin Knight in that list?" Catherine asked.

Sara watched Brass flip through the pages, ignoring Grissom's unbroken gaze. "Yes, he is," the captain said, removing the copy of the man's card.

"He did say he worked with them here and then brought the kids to the room on Friday for their mother," Catherine said with a sigh.

"He did?" Sara asked.

The swing shift supervisor nodded. "We just finished interviewing him. His prints were found in the Corbin's room," she informed the other CSI.

"They shouldn't have been," Sara replied. "KidsQuest employees do not bring children to guest rooms. Parents must sign their children out."

"Damn," Catherine said, shaking her head. "We had him."

Brass's phone was already out, against one ear as he relayed the information about their suspect to dispatch, hoping the young man would still be in the casino and easy to apprehend. Sara looked up and saw the young man in the picture walking towards KidsQuest, apparently finished with his break. He spotted the four of them and dropped his soft drink as he took off running in the opposite direction.

All four of them took off in pursuit, Brass relaying the information as he did so. Sara watched as the young man ducked through a row of slot machines, almost disappearing into the crowd. She stopped in her tracks as she watched Grissom fall upon the young man, dragging him down by the waist, landing a punch to his gut as the man swiped at him. She looked away from the scene, astonished by the fury she saw emanating from the usually stoic entomologist.

"I got him, Gil," Brass said, pulling the young man to his feet as two casino police came over to help.

"Catherine," Grissom said, causing Sara and her to look towards him. "I'm taking Sara home. I'll be at the station as soon as I can."

The swing shift supervisor nodded and followed Brass and the suspect out of the casino. Sara looked at her feet as she felt him approach. His hand gripped her forearm and he began to steer her towards the parking lot. "Which one?" he growled, the anger audible in his voice.

"Right out front," she said, her voice sounding distant to her. "Second row."

They walked in silence out to the parking lot, a thousand thoughts running through Sara's mind. She handed him her keys, falling into the passenger seat.

"I don't know what to do with you," he said as he started the car.

Tears welled in her eyes as she leaned against the window. "I don't know either," she whispered.

"You're off this case," he informed her. "God, Sara, are you trying to lose your job?"

Tears started cascading down her face, her body trembling. Fear enveloped her as she realized that she didn't care. "I can't find the beauty in this anymore," she said softly, eyes closing as her body shook with the force of her sobs, scared that she was losing her very being. '_Who am I without this job?'_

**TBC**


	9. Chapter 9

**A Breaking Point**

By Jess aka willowaus

Disclaimer: I do not own CSI and I am in no way making any money from writing this, alas.

A/N: Lots of thanks to AussiRayne for the beta. Hope you enjoy.

**Part Nine**

She could tell that he was angry. Forcing herself to ascend the staircase to her apartment floor, she listened to his breathing, to the gentle grinding of his teeth. She wondered what he would say once they entered the apartment. He wouldn't scream. Sara laughed at the thought. Gil Grissom didn't scream. He may raise his voice, or in his case lower it with the added effect of the disappointment she knew would be in his eyes.

Turning the key in the door, she wished that he would just yell. Yelling she could deal with. This silence was something she could not. If he yelled, she could yell back, could fight back. The silence was what killed her, made her feel invisible, worthless. Dropping her purse on the counter, she wondered if he was even aware that he had the power to make her feel that way.

Sara walked past the counter, idly looking towards the phone, cringing at the zero displayed on the answering machine. She collapsed onto the chair, twisting her body away from him, gazing at one of the photographs on the wall. From the corner of her eye she saw him take a seat on her couch, eyes focused on her, waiting for her. She ignored him, intent on making him start.

'_I don't know where to start,'_ she told herself as she sighed.

"What's going on?" Grissom asked, breaking the silence.

"I don't know," she answered truthfully, her gaze never faltering from the photograph.

"Sara," he began, his voice tinged with frustration.

"I don't know!" she snapped and looked at him, pleading with him to understand. She shook her head and turned away. "I feel like I'm treading water. But my arms are so tired…"

"Sara," Grissom repeated, his hand touching her arm.

She pulled away from him. "I don't know what is wrong!" she yelled at him. "I don't know why the memories are being thrust upon me more and more. I don't know why everything I see reminds me of when I was younger. I don't know why I went to the casino. I don't…I just don't know…"

She felt the tears start to fall and wiped at her eyes, cursing herself for being weak. "Crying isn't a weakness," Grissom said, leaning forward, hands resting on the edge of her chair.

Sara shook her head in response, berating herself for speaking allowed. His hand was on her arm again and she didn't have the strength to push him away. She turned into him, accepting the comfort he was offering, crying into his body, trying to let all of her frustrations go. "I can't do this anymore," she hiccupped.

His hand was stroking her back as he answered her. "Do what?"

"I think I need to leave," she answered.

His hand stilled its movements. "Leave?" Grissom asked his voice breaking as he said the word.

She pulled back from him and nodded. "I think I need to," she said.

He shook his head, his hands moving to her arms, running up and down them. "Sara," he said his eyes frantic with emotion.

She opened her mouth to reply when his cell phone rang. He ignored it, hands continuing their movements, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to think coherently. The phone began ringing again and Sara fished it out of his pocket, handing it to him, looking pointedly at him to answer it. He did so, eyes never leaving her face as he spoke.

Grissom hung up the phone and placed it back in his pocket. "I have to go," he said. "Everyone on swing is out in the field. I need to process the suspect's apartment."

Sara nodded, moving to stand up. "Promise me you'll be here when I come back," Grissom said, pleading silently with her.

She bit her lip and looked away from him. "Promise me," he urged, tugging at her.

She solemnly looked at him before pressing her lips to his, eyes closing as he returned the kiss. "Go," she whispered against his lips. "Catch the bastard."

Grissom nodded and walked out of the apartment, turning back to look at her quiet smile. It was only after he met Brass at the suspect's apartment that he realized she hadn't promised him. With great effort he got out of the car instead of heading back to her apartment, silently hoping that she would be there when he went back.

xxx

It had taken Sara exactly fifteen minutes after Grissom left to download driving directions, pack a few belongings and write a simple letter explaining that she needed to leave. Exactly twenty-three minutes after Grissom left, she was on the I-15, driving away from Las Vegas, trying to push aside the desperation in his eyes when he had asked her to promise not to go.

Placing a CD into the player, she leaned back into the driver's seat, letting Ani DiFranco's voice wash over her, as she headed back to the one place she promised herself she would never see again. She was finally heading home. Glancing out of the rear view mirror, she cast one more glance at the lights of Las Vegas, hoping that he would understand. She doubted that he would. '_No one ever has.'_

xxx

His eyes drifted again to the watch on his left arm before he shook his head, silently berating himself for the distraction. The Corbin family deserved more. He shook his head and refocused himself, pulling the covers off of the bed as he pushed the glasses into place, scanning the ALS across the sheets. He frowned as he saw the tell tale signs of semen dispersed along the fabric.

His thoughts turned back to Sara as he carefully circled the spots. It had been five hours since he left her, five hours since he had asked her not to leave. His brow creased in frustration as he wondered how far she had managed to get away from Las Vegas in that time.

Julia Corbin's lifeless body rose to his mind as he circled the last stain. He removed the glasses and turned on the light, pushing Sara once again from his thoughts. He walked over to the hamper leaning against the far wall and opened the wicker basket. His eyebrows rose slightly as he removed a sheet from the top. Opening it up, he cringed as he saw the blood stains soaked through the fabric, creating an outline of Julia's body.

Grissom placed it inside an evidence bag, writing out the necessary information, before returning his attention to the rest of the basket. He shook his head as he removed a bloodied knife and a gun. '_Is it really that simple?'_ he pondered, knowing full well that no matter how thought out a crime was, the thought process after the act was committed was usually sloppy.

He turned from the basket, eyes wandering around the room as he took a moment to reflect on where to look next. His gaze stalled on the mirror above the dresser. His own reflection stared back at him, Sara and the little girl from his dreams smiling happily at him before Sara drifted away, the child looking sadly at the spot she used to fill.

Grissom turned away from the mirror, forcing the images away. Turning, he opened the closet, ignoring the silent crying in the back of his mind. He needed to finish processing the scene.

xxx

She could smell the salt in the air, the scent telling her that she was nearing the coastline of California, bringing her one step closer to Tamales Bay. Eventually she would cross over the Richmond-San Rafael bridge, passing over the San Pablo bay and inching ever closer to Tamales. Her grip on the steering wheel tightened, knowing that the route would become infinitely more familiar the closer she got. She shook her head and reached for the mug of coffee she had filled at the last gas stop.

'_Would it be the same?'_ she wondered. '_Or have things changed?'_ Did the children on her old street still cut behind the old Sampson house on their way to the school bus stop? Did the Sampson house even still exist? Did her old house?

Sara shook her head again and placed the mug back in the cup holder, rolling her shoulders in an attempt to relieve the tension that had built up in them. Her cell phone lay in the passenger seat and she wondered why Grissom hadn't called her, demanding to know where she was.

'_He might still be at the scene,'_ she reminded herself. '_Or maybe he's finally realized how screwed up you are and washed his hands of the situation.'_

It wasn't that hard to imagine. Her foster families had done that, so had a number of boyfriends before she decided that it would be easier and less hurtful if she continued concentrating on school. '_God, Sara, your own brother left you to fend for yourself,'_ she scolded herself, pushing away any thoughts of her family.

She just needed to keep driving, to finally get back to the little town, to put to rest the demons that were eating her up inside. As the Richmond-San Rafael bridge came into view she hoped that she would finally be able to do just that.

xxx

Gil Grissom handed over the last evidence bag from the apartment, watching as each one was catalogued into the computer. He looked at his watch, shaking his head as he realized that eight hours had gone by. Nodding to the man collecting the bags, he exited the room and walked towards his office. If Sara wasn't in her apartment, which he suspected she wasn't, he had a pretty good idea where she was headed.

Entering his office he walked to the desk, carefully pulling open one of the drawers and removing an innocuous envelope. In it was Sara's case file from when she was a ward of the state of California, one of thousands shuffled about from foster home to foster home. In these papers was the address of the place she had grown up in, the house where she had seen her father murdered and her mother become a killer, the place where her innocence had been shattered.

Smoothing out the papers he knew it was where she was headed. If the memories were coming back, if she couldn't stop thinking about it, then she would go home to try and see if it would help. He looked again at his watch, calculating the time it would take her to drive to the small town, determining that she would probably be there in the hour if she had left slightly after he did.

He folded the papers back up and slid them into the envelope, sinking down into the chair behind him. He stared at the door to the office, trying to decipher what he should do. The lab needed him. They were in the middle of a case, with a staff shortage because off the split Ecklie had done to the team. His eyes lowered to the envelope in his hand. But Sara needed him too.

Looking away from the envelope he silently cursed, knowing this was the exact reason he had not wanted to form a connection with her. There would always be this choice. The lab or her, both were important to him, and both demanded his attention. He shook his head.

'_No,'_ he reminded himself. That wasn't true. She hadn't asked him to follow, hadn't asked him to decide between the two. He had a feeling she never would ask, would never hold it against him if he didn't follow her. With an air of defeat he stood up, placing the envelope back in its spot before closing the drawer.

'_There really is only one choice.'_

xxx

'_Marin county,'_ she read, her grip tightening once again, anxiety running through her.

Her speed slowed considerably as she remembered how curvy the roads here were and the chance of her encountering a deer on the road. She forced herself to pay attention, happy for the respite from her thoughts. As time crawled by her gaze flickered over the familiar sights. She inched past Bivalve, the scent of salty air becoming more prominent. She knew if she opened the window she would hear the sounds of the water.

Millerton. Marconi. The small towns flew by her window as she neared her destination, the road curving away from the bay as she made her way up the hills of green grass, finally entering the small town of Tamales. All was quiet, as she would expect this late at night.

'_Some things don't change,_' she thought with a tinge of bitterness as she turned down the main street, following one of the smaller ones away from the center of town. Her grip tightened again as the houses rolled by before she stopped the car, her gaze trapped on the house at the end of the cul-de-sac. She could barely make it out in the dark, but she knew it was there.

She rested her head against the steering wheel and sighed. '_You can't go now,'_ she reasoned with herself. The neighbors would call the police or someone could be living in it and call them. turning around she drove back the way she had come, driving past the inn and bed and breakfast in the center of town. She drove back down route one, stopping at the small inn she had seen on the side of the road.

It was new and the chances of running into someone in her past it were slim if she stayed there. Plus, they were still open. Slowly she walked inside, using her credit card to pay for a three days. If she needed to stay longer she could always pay more. She retrieved her bag and cell phone from the car and made followed the night clerk up the stairs to her room.

She quickly changed and slipped under the covers, closing her eyes as she clutched her phone in one hand. A sigh escaped her as she realized that he had never bothered to call.

xxx

Sara awoke to the rays of light coming in through the room's curtains, surprised that she had been able to sleep at all during the night. She blinked and sat up, looking down at the cell phone still in her hands, frowning at the lack of missed calls. '_You really do need to get out more,'_ she chided herself, sitting up in the bed and leaning her head against the oak frame.

She was actually here, in her old town. And she had no idea what to do next. Standing, she walked over to the window, looking out at Tamales in the daylight, the first time she had seen it this way in over ten years. She leaned against the cool glass and closed her eyes, stilling the thousands of thoughts coursing through her mind.

'_Just take a shower and get dressed,'_ she told herself. '_You can figure the rest out later.'_

She rummaged through her bag, grabbing the necessary products. A half an hour later she was ready, her hair put up in a pony tail, scowling at herself for forgetting the hairdryer. There was always the possibility of asking to borrow one of the inn's. '_Stop delaying the inevitable,'_ she thought, glaring at her image in the mirror.

With a sigh, she put on her boots, grabbed her purse and phone and left the room, locking it behind her. She idly wondered if Diekmanns general store was still open, mouth curling into a smile as she remembered her times in it. She descended the stairs and nodded to the morning clerk, donning her sun glasses as she readied herself to step out into the light.

Her gaze fell upon the man reading today's paper in one of the over stuffed chairs, a cup of coffee set on the table before him. As he turned the page, her eyes widened with recognition.

"Grissom?"

**TBC**

**A/N: **There is no such place as Tamales Bay in California.There is a Tomales Bay and it is located in Marin county, California, though it is an actual bay, but I'm sure none of you needed to know that. :P However, there is a small town called Tomales that is only a few miles from the bay and is what I've based Sara's town on.


End file.
